Chapter 64 The Controlled Leak
David’s POV
The mood in the surveillance room was heavy, the air thick with the smell of scorched coffee and the humming of server fans. Brittany sat in the center of the glow, her eyes fixed on the name Chloe had whispered. I stood behind her, my hands resting on the back of her chair. I could feel the tension radiating off her like heat.
"We remove them now," I said. My voice was low, cutting through the silence. "I’ll have security escort them to the gate before the sun comes up. We can’t have a snake in the nest this close to the finish line."
"No," Brittany said, her voice sharp and final. She didn't turn around. "A removed source is just a vacancy, David. If we kick them out, Richard and Harrison will just find someone else. Someone we haven't identified. Someone we can't watch."
Leo looked up from his monitors, his glasses reflecting the scrolling green code. "She’s right. Right now, we have the advantage of knowing exactly what they’re seeing. We control the eyes. If we cut them off, we’re back to flying blind."
"So we just let them keep taking pictures of the studio?" I asked, my frustration boiling over. "We let them record our conversations?"
"We let them see what we want them to see," Brittany replied. She finally turned her chair to face me. Her eyes were cold, filled with a tactical clarity that I had come to respect more than anything. "We feed them. We give them a meal so big they don't look for anything else."
I looked at Leo. "How fast can you build a false trail?"
"For a professional?" Leo asked, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips. "Give me two hours. I’ll create a mirror of our entire plan, but with just enough rot in the foundation to make it collapse the moment they try to use it."
We spent the next ninety minutes huddled over the central terminal. It was a surgical operation. We didn't create a fantasy; we created a distorted version of the truth. Leo worked with the careful precision of a man defusing a bomb. He adjusted the digital logs to show a series of high-level meetings with a completely different legal team. He fabricated email chains discussing a venue change that looked like a response to a security leak.
"It has to be plausible," Leo muttered, his fingers dancing across the keys. "If it's too perfect, they'll know it's a setup. I’m adding some internal conflict. Some messages where Brittany is complaining about the quality of the silk. It makes it feel real."
"Add the venue change," I said, leaning over his shoulder. "Tell them we’re moving the main presentation to the old warehouse on the pier. It’s a Blackwell property, so they’ll believe we’re trying to keep it in the family for security."
"Done," Leo said. "I’ve also updated the calendar for the federal filing. It shows the submission happening at ten PM, two hours after the gala starts. That gives them a window where they think they can still stop us."
Brittany watched the screen, her chin resting on her hand. "They’re going to act on this, David. Richard doesn't just watch. He strikes. He’ll put all his resources into blocking that warehouse. He’ll have lawyers standing by at ten PM to tie up the filing."
"That’s the point," I said. "Let them waste their energy on a ghost. Let them position their pieces on a board that doesn't exist."
I walked over to the whiteboard where we had mapped out the real collection. I looked at the sketches, the ones that had been pulled from the foundation, and the new pieces Brittany had been working on in the middle of the night. I felt a surge of protectiveness that was almost physical.
"We need one more thing," I said, turning back to the table. I looked at Brittany. She was the center of this storm, the person everyone was trying to break. "We need a detail that hits them where they live. Something that makes them feel superior."
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
I took a deep breath, looking her directly in the eye. "We tell them the collection is not ready. We leaked a set of notes that says the stress has finally caught up to you. We show them a false inventory that says there are only eight pieces and the closing look doesn't exist yet."
Leo stopped typing, looking up with a worried expression. "That’s a big risk, David. If the board hears the collection is incomplete, the stock will tank before the gala even starts."
"The board won't hear it," I said. "Only the source will. And the source will tell Richard. And Richard will tell Harrison."
I paused, a cold smile touching my lips as I saw Brittany begin to understand.
"Let them walk into that room thinking we're not finished."
We tell them the collection is not ready. That there are only eight pieces and the closing look doesn't exist yet." He pauses. "Let them walk into that room thinking we're not finished.